committment

In 2008 I was ecstatic to find myself working to elect an off-white president. As someone who has a degree in white man’s literature, it is not immediately necessary to diverge to a specific color, race or creed. Much as those who do not want something built near them – “anywhere but here” – I wanted something different. Almost anything.
And now the difference between the president of 2008 and the current president is opening places in me that have never been expressed, hardly thought. Each day of acknowledging the support I feel builds a bridge to expression inside me. When my first woman lover – my 10th grade English teacher, some years after she taught me – wanted to initiate me to the life I had entered she gave me Nightwood by Djuna Barnes. I was horrified. I didn’t want to move a muscle. I knew for sure then I was alone and I was very afraid. I went on to read Jean Genet who convinced me of my doom.
But I had always felt doomed. I loved John Keats’ poem, Hyperion, identifying with every word about the Titans and their exile. Nevermind that I had risen to no height, I was willing to fall from any.

My mother always called me a rebel without a cause, maddening me and in so doing, making her point! So all this time I have looked for causes – there are many, it’s not a hard pull. I have written and photographed and called and given and stood firm and done it again and again. I have never looked in this mirror.
For over thirty years I have studied the philosophy of authenticity. Call it Buddhist, call it Christian, Muslim, Jain, Sufi, Theosophy, all the ancients and not so ancient. Now I find a thread of myself hidden in my own view, in your view – no mystery or particularly hidden, just not expressed the way I find its expression now, today.

Today I find compassion
in the flower
for me

Today I find meaning
in the word
for me

Today I celebrate
freedom and integrity
for me

Today there is enough
in life’s roundabout
for me

And when I open my eyes
in the reading of a book
to the force of a song
I realize I am singing
I am reading
with you.

We used to say “far out” in the seventies when we meant “awesome” or “epic!” It’s a way of defining an all-out action. I came across these photos which reminded me to live a full out, far out life. Reach way beyond my grasp, nevermind steadiness, it’ll work itself out.

I gave a talk at Toastmasters today about a meditation strategy I’ve been teaching and practicing. And yes, I am equating dance and meditation – most everything can be equated, related. There is no one among us who cannot give their All.

A friend called me and asked why I hadn’t posted for awhile. I guess I got out of rhythm and I’m having my second cataract surgery on Thursday this week. It’s “simple” but still involves my eyes so not so simple really. After the first surgery 3 weeks ago it was quite miraculous to see clearly – out of one eye! So my brain’s a bit fuddled and monovision does not a depth perceiver or a reader make. I’m looking forward to getting back to balance – literally. She suggested a fuzzy photo as a way of explanation, for me I’m just waiting to type without my face so close to the screen!

Also the election left me confused. After a lot of phone banking, hand-wringing and poll cursing I’m left with a lot of wins – confusing to this stubborn rebel looking for change. I’ve spent my life so far working to right what I consider wrongs. I grew up with signs for “coloreds only” and am used to civil wrongs and unequal lots of things. So it is exhilarating to meet with co-workers on phone banks to talk about building on the wins we’ve just won. I find myself planning to work even harder to bring sanity to what has become a polar and very parochial election process.

In the sixties I was elated to be part of a generation of iconoclasts who did I think stop the war in Viet Nam, who did open society to huge change and I’m proud of that. What I find disturbing is that more of those ideas haven’t stayed around. I find it disturbing that the battles weren’t won. Some are forgotten – who thinks of the ERA on any consistent basis. Why should we have to have the Lilly Ledbetter Act, as important as it is, when the Equal Rights Amendment would have made it unnecessary.

So, with my next lens, I want to help create news to remember, news that turns to history and policy and something the generations to follow can build on and trust. I want to see clearly to build a foundation on what we’ve done and what we will do. I want to stand next to all of you, different views, opposing positions, and varying abilities yet loyal to the larger commitment that each of us has a right to pursue happiness, peace and lives of our choice.

I hope each one of us will put down out partisan signs and put out energy and faith for all of us. We have a lot to do and it’ll be easier to work together.

There is a conversation going on in this country that is completely, solely about women and in which I have not heard the voice of a woman.

There is a complacency shared by many – men and women – that the 1973 Roe v. Wade decision by the Supreme Court is immutable.

We stand in a moment of time when this cannot be farther from the truth.

Since the elections of 2010 when ideologists flooded congress and passed legislation limiting a woman’s right to options for birth control, defining rape, curbing funding for healthcare specific to women; the climate changed. This summer when were seeking information for our daughter, there was no talk of anything but having a baby. Our family doctor told her she could go on Medicaid – sign up in any doctor’s office – and the baby’s expenses would be paid for. She would have to have a vaginal ultrasound in order to further explore options for termination.

In 1962 I was living in Connecticut. Contraception was illegal, any form of birth control was available only to those who were married and available only through their doctor. Very few had medical insurance, it was not the norm and not offered by employers. Any doctor visit was paid for by the patient. Abortion was illegal and a young woman without money and/or the support of her family – I had neither – was bound to have a child. Florence Crittenden homes were available, excuses were made for young pregnant women who were shuttled off to the nether regions to have their babies. Shame and stigma were the rule.

I am not putting too blunt a face on this. When it is your life that is on the line, there is no “act of god” that will ameliorate circumstances and make everything better.

When the rule of the land states that a woman must not have control over her body there is a trickle down that is like a social torrent of shame and lost opportunities. Never, ever, underestimate the importance of who is in charge – who you give or who takes a leadership role in your life.

Freedom’s wings are fragile. Judgement is strong. Do not get caught in the trap of denial.

Just past the Autumnal Equinox and into the home stretch for the Winter Solstice, kale and chard are going strong, beets and carrots are neck and neck to the top of the soil, the birds are feasting on sunflowers and berries and the lettuce takes its sweet time.

This place, this earth is so well organized, so well expressed. I have only to notice what is here to see it. Of course it’s what I already know so the stretch is not mine. I visit my father’s mind in this mode of wondering what I eat from the garden that I do not see and what do I not eat because I can’t see it.

I walk around waiting to bump into something I don’t know and wonder if wondering is enough to manifest. I think of the tales of the Europeans who came to distant shores where the inhabitants could not see them and were overtaken and think if we don’t open to mystery we too will be doomed to repeat failure.

In my work with artists and all those in transition, I ask that habits be renegotiated, simple as using a different hand to reach or the other foot to lead, difficult as not giving the voice of resistance its due. Letting the light of appreciation be on fully, floating in the sea of possibility, willing and able and full of expectation at the edge of unknown to find there is no edge, only open sea.

“My words fly up, my thoughts remain below: Words without thoughts never to heaven go.” So spoke the new King Claudius in Hamlet (act III, scene 3) after asking God not to forgive him for killing Hamlet’s father but to allow him to get away with it. He knows the truth and what the lie means to him and he begs to carry on as he has been.

How many times have I asked the removal of a moment’s haste, something broken or wasted. A promise or friendship, a young life given moments of doubt, of fear, a reason to hide something for the shame of it. I have often spoken with other parents and laughed self-consciously about the moment we just shared and how it might send our children to “the couch” in their futures. We also forgive and know the resilience that is in all of us.

But what about this aspect of ourselves: our words, our actions? The Vietnamese monk and meditation teacher Thich Nhat Hanh says, “Every thought you produce, anything you say, any action you do, it bears your signature.”

Carrying an attitude, a fear, an appreciation is like wearing a suit of clothes. It shows our colors, who we are that day, and, if worn with consistency, gives the mood by which we are known.

How do we want to be seen? If we don’t care or have too much care where is the authenticity. Sometimes it gets lost. When we are in appreciation mode, when we are clear within ourselves, we have a head start at being in sync with who we are, our words can be our best friends.

Pam White is a life coach, painter, photographer, poet and the founder of Pam White is a life coach, painter, photographer, poet and the founder of Insight Coaching. She brings over thirty years of meditation practice to her work with clients.Insight Coaching. She brings over thirty years of meditation practice to her work with clients.

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